Seven Years Bad Luck Or Maybe Just a Moment
by i-prefer-the-term-antihero
Summary: Adrian broke the mirror in his father's study...how will Dracula ever forgive him? (Written for the prompt for the Castlevania Netflix Series: "Please give us Lisa and Vlad just being loving science parents (bonus points if they're protective)") Cover art by niuan on instagram! /niuan /)


**Notes:**

This was written for a prompt on tumblr, check out my blog antihero-writings for the original post!

And feel free to give me some more prompts (I work best/fastest with broad prompts like this one!), or just to say hi!

* * *

Father was going to be furious.

Adrian's brain ran through all the potential scenarios; at first it was the sound of his father's raised voice, and at last it was the feeling of the dirt outside the castle—thrown out, on the grounds that breaking a mirror was more than bad luck. Sure, it might be a small chance, but a child's imagination hasn't been domesticated yet.

"Are you alright, sweetie?" his mother asked the quintessential mother's question at the dinner table, putting a hand on his shoulder, "You've barely touched your food."

Adrian didn't say anything. He wanted to speak, to defend himself, to lie, but words were fickle and cruel; they rose to surface, but when he tried to net them, they dove back down his throat.

Emotions, however, weren't particular about how and when they appeared, and bit even those who didn't at all want to catch them.

"I…I'm sorry." Tears began to fill his eyes.

"Sorry?" Lisa half laughed. "Sorry for what?"

The boy's golden eyes flickered to his father, who paused, and cocked his head to the side. Only confusion. No anger there…yet.

But surely there would be. His mind offered a seven-course meal on just how angry the vampire king might get in the next few minutes.

Lies, excuses dove down his throat. But the truth wouldn't stay choked down.

"I…_I broke your mirror_!" he blurted out, too loudly, "I didn't mean to, I swear! I—It just fell to pieces! I wasn't playing with it or anything!"

He heard how loud, how tiny, his voice sounded, and the excuses sputtered and died.

He was ready for Dracula to stand tall, to demand how and why, for his eyes to flash red and…okay, maybe not ready, but expecting it, at the very least.

Instead the Tepes parents looked each other quizzically.

"Which mirror?" His father asked calmly—mirrors weren't exactly the most common occurrence in a vampire's house, after all.

Adrian sank down in his chair, his eyes darting away, the words a low burbling murmur, "The-The one in your study."

His parents' faces broke, not in anger, but into forgiving—almost amused—smiles, like he had done something funny and didn't know it.

"Come with me, Son." Dracula stood up from the table—but less as the commanding presence, more in a sweeping, flowing motion that could take him away with him—holding out a hand.

Adrian's eyes ran to the safety of his mother—the nod that she gave said _go with him_.

He got up from the table, taking his father's hand—(not as cold as you might think)—still apprehensive, but now more than a little curious. His little footsteps pattered along behind the calculated tolls in the halls.

They came to the scene of the crime: the study. What was once once a smooth, shining mirror, now a pile of glittering glass on the ground. Adrian looked away, swallowing, at the sight of it.

Dracula let go of his son's fingers, taking a step forward. He looked over his shoulder smirking a little, and raising his hand.

With one motion his sin was undone; the puddle of a mirror rose, like a dog called by its owner, the jagged droplets coalescing back into the rippling surface.

Adrian's eyes widened as he stepped closer, seeing himself reflected in it silver waves, as if he was the only one in the room. Dracula put a hand on his shoulder.

"This isn't a normal mirror." He waved a hand and the scene within the mirror became something else entirely: a mossy forest. He waved his hand again and before them was a moonlit beach. "It can take you anywhere in the world."

Adrian took another step closer, mouth agape, staring at the shifting scenes, and reached out. Before he could touch it, however, Dracula waved his hand, and he was reflected in the room again.

"Can we go somewhere?" He looked up at his father, the fire dancing from the mirror to those golden irises.

The kind look in his father's eyes flickered.

"Not…today." He turned to leave the room.

Adrian rushed up to him. "Tomorrow?"

The vampire king paused, flicking his wrist, and Adrian started at the sound of shattering glass; the mirror had returned to its fragmented pile.

"You have lessons tomorrow."

The boy followed him into the hall. "The next day then?"

"Son—" Dracula stopped, pinching the bridge of his nose.

He sighed and crouched down before him, one hand on his shoulder, the other brushing through his son's hair.

"You are one of the brightest children I've ever met—and I don't meet a lot of children," he laughed a little. "You are kind, and gentle… and you always do what you feel is right."

Adrian smiled sheepishly.

His father twisted a lock of his hair around his finger. "But the world out there…"—Excitement ran from Adrian's toes to the tip of his tongue, but he said nothing; something made his father's eyes look redder— "Has no place for that." He turned his nail, cutting the strand of hair. "Your place is here, in the castle, with your mother and I, where it's safe."

Adrian looked at the ground, biting his lip, desperately trying to keep the fluttering thing in his stomach from dying.

"But I—"

His father raised himself back up, six feet tall and all vampire.

"It's time for bed." He said, and it's not up for discussion.

* * *

"What's it like, out there?" Adrian asked as his mother tucked him in for bed.

"Well," she thought about it. "It's big," she pulled the covers tight around his shoulders. "Bigger than you could imagine. And colorful, much more colorful than this old place. The sun is so bright, and it has a way of illuminating everything beneath it, making it look more beautiful. And there are hundreds of thousands of animals, howling—awoo!—and meowing"—she pawed at him, and he laughed—"and chirping"—she whistled—"out there, and just as many people—all creating wonderful things, singing, dancing…" She trailed off.

She seemed so happy when she talked about the outside world.

"Mother?" he asked softly.

"Yes, that's me."

"…Will I ever get to go out there?"

"Why of course! Why do you ask?"

"Father says…he says that the world out there has no place for—"

"Adrian," she paused, then reached out to cup his cheek"…your father is what most people would call an old fuddy-duddy." She smiled, then paused, saying more seriously. "He…hasn't had very many good experiences with people. He just doesn't want you to get hurt."

"So… _you_'ll take me out there?"

"Well," she laughed, "Well, I can't exactly sneak you out tonight. But yes, one day. Your father will take some convincing, but I'm pretty good at persuading him. …Did you hear about the time I showed up at his front door?"

He'd heard it alright; only about a thousand times.

But there would be a time, many years later, a time when he walked the world, and some mirrors that broke couldn't be repaired, when he would give anything to hear her tell it just once more.


End file.
